Beth was climbing up the staircase of the funeral home when she heard him come up behind her. He had an almost silent-tread normally, but this time he made his presence known. She could hear his ragged breathing as he moved in closer, and she knew why that was.

Her thoughts went dark, but despite her mind's reluctance, her body was already responding to him. She felt her pulse speed up and her own breathing became erratic. Her base-needs were taking over, as they always seemed to do with him.

Pausing on the top stair, she turned to face him, standing two steps below her, his expression unreadable as always. They were almost eye-to-eye from this vantage and she could see that the blue of his eyes was barely visible. His pupils were dilated with his need for her. Was it lust, love, just scratching an itch? She didn't know, and wasn't that just the problem?

Daryl put his hand on her waist and steered her toward the bedroom. He was a bit on the rough-side, but she was learning that was normal for him. He didn't speak, but she knew what he wanted without words. She could sense his desire in the way he moved and knew what he wanted from her. She wanted it too. She just never thought it would be like this with him, so cold, so distant.

He knew just where to touch her to make her body hum with pleasure, but there was no sweetness, no intimacy. No whispered words of love or gentle caresses. Sex with Daryl was dark, rough and bruising.

She'd seen the scars on his back. She had some idea of what his life had been like before. He didn't talk much about his past, but the little he did confide left no doubt that he'd suffered many years of physical and mental abuse. It was possible, she thought sadly, that these rough-encounters were all he had to give her. They undressed in silence, his hooded eyes never leaving hers.

She looked up at him as he moved his body over hers. His eyes were closed, his face scrunched-up and tense as he pounded his hips into her. The skin on her back burned a little as it rubbed roughly against the sheets as they moved.

His pace had been gentle at the start. He'd figured out early-on that she'd come quick that way. And she had. Now her body was wet, loose and pliable for him to slake his need.

The room was silent except for their breathing, the slap of his flesh over hers and his animalistic grunts as he ground himself against her. After a few more moments, his rhythm faltered, his back tensed and bowed as he pushed harshly into her one last time.

"Fuck!," he grunted, his mouth gone slack as he pulsed to a finish deep inside her.

His fingers reached down and grabbed the base of his cock. He slowly withdrew from her tight-heat, holding on to the full-condom so it didn't leak. He then flipped over into his back, his body damp with sweat from his efforts. His arm was thrown casually over his eyes as his heart rate and breathing slowed, then evened-out. He disposed of the condom and lay his head back on the pillow. He looked calm and relaxed.

He managed to mumble out, "g'nite," before drifting off to sleep. Within moments he was softly snoring. Sleep didn't come so easy to Beth. Although her body was sated, her thoughts were restless.

Her thoughts drifted to their first time together. It was Beth that had initiated it. Walkers had come right to their front door. Thinking it was a stray dog they had been trying to feed, Daryl opened the door without caution. There were too many for him to stop, and they pushed in.

Beth ran, and they were separated. After a fierce battle, he made it out, but couldn't find her. He screamed her name until his voice went hoarse. There were walkers all around the yard, but he didn't seem to notice or care.

When she found him sometime later, he was sitting on the ground staring aimlessly. It was a miracle he hasn't been bit. He told her in a low, aching-voice, that he thought the walkers had gotten her. He thought he'd find her body in the light of day, torn to shreds or worse, reanimated and hungry, hissing and shuffling until he himself had to end her.

He sat there listless, looking more like a walker than the capable man he was. She had pounded on his lax-form with her tiny fists and screamed at him to get up, get moving...run. After a few moments, he did.

Beth pushed and prodded him into the untouched shed in the backyard. Locking the door behind them, they huddled together silently all through the night, listening to the walkers shuffle and moan all around them.

In the light of day, they surveyed the scene. There were a few walkers still about, but the bulk of the small-herd had been killed by Daryl the night before, or had moved on. They spent the rest of that day, silently clearing out corpses and when they finally stumbled back into the house to rest, Daryl had lost it.

The normally stoic man dropped to the floor and just sobbed huge, wracking-sobbed. The stress and exhaustion finally catching up with him. It was frightening for Beth to see. But more, she couldn't stand to see him hurting like that.

She sat down on the rug next to him and squeezed him with all her might. Her body draped over him, trying to smother his pain. He never said a word, so neither did she. She just hummed softly and skimmed her hands over him gently, like a mother wanting to soothe her frightened child.

After awhile, he quieted and turned in her embrace so their bodies were pressed together proper. He buried his face in her neck and breathed her in. She wriggled-in as close as she could. When she felt his erection, hot and hard against her, she reached for him without conscious thought, desperately wanting to comfort his aching soul.

He took her there on the floor.

He was gentle enough when he realized she was fumbling to keep up. The tightness of her body telling him what she was too embarrassed to say. That she was new at this, that she was nervous and a bit scared.

After he slowed his pace, she came so hard she saw stars. She cried out, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she throbbed around him. He pushed in a few more times, just managing to pull-out before he finished, pulsing his seed onto her flushed thigh.

He laid with her there on the rug until their breathing slowed. Then, he grasped her hand and pulled her up with him as he stood. He kissed her forehead and held her hand as they walked upstairs to a bed together. They slept deep.

She awoke the next morning, stretched and felt the new soreness between her legs. She hummed to herself as vivid snapshots from last night flickered through her thoughts.

The bright sunlight streaming into the room told her it was mid-morning. He was gone. He left a note saying he had left to gather supplies.

When he returned hours later, he had bags with him from a successful run. His dark mood had lifted, thankfully. He was even smiling as he emptied the bags before her. She grinned back at him in return, feeling light and happy.

But there was no mention of the night before. No conversation of what they had done. She watched him for clues to his thoughts, about what they had shared, how he felt about it, but his expression was unreadable.

Beth was beginning to wonder if he had felt last night had been a mistake. Then she had noticed the boxes of condoms in the bottom of one bag. Her eyes slid over to him to gauge his reaction to her find, but he was looking down, suddenly very interested in picking his nails.

She felt her heart swell. She suspected that the reason he had gone out on the run was specifically to get those brightly-colored boxes. That had to mean something? At least she knew there would definitely be more sex. Looking dubiously at the amount of boxes, apparently a lot more sex.

She had been happy to see that. She realized she both loved and desired him deeply. Although he never said anything, she knew having sex with her pleased him. It seemed to Beth that he was happier, less moody and restless because of it.

She was right. He took her often after that first time. Everyday, sometimes twice a day. He'd have that look in his eye, that determined, masculine-stance, and then he'd reach for her.

Beth never pulled away, never said no. She always felt pleasure being with him, but a sadness was building inside her. She wanted more. She wanted him to love her the way she knew love could be, all sweetness and light. Problem was, she was beginning to doubt if he had more to give.

Her mother had always given good advice. In this instance the memory of her knowing voice haunted Beth's thoughts, "when someone shows you who they are...believe them the first time." Was physical love all this beautiful, damaged man had to give her?